Page 46 of The Quarterback
He inhaled. Scrunched up his face. Peeked one eye open.
That look of terror was still all over Nick’s face. Nick’s hands clenched the sheet draped between his knees, his knuckles white.
“What did we do?” Nick whispered. “What happened last night?”
Colton blinked. He burrowed his cheek into the pillow, the pillow that smelled like Nick. “You don’t remember?” God, his throat was sore. His voice sounded like it had gone through a cheese grater, like he’d talked too much last night. But no, he hadn’t been talking. He’d been sucking Nick’s cock.
Nick paled again. His hands shook. His lips thinned. “We…”
This wasn’t how it was supposed to go at all. He rolled, gingerly, trying not to put any weight on his throbbing right shoulder as he flipped from his belly to his back. The morning erection he’d had was gone. He was naked and limp and exposed.
Nick’s gaze ran over his body, skittering over his naked crotch and his chest, then going wide when he saw Colton’s right arm. “Where’s your sling?”
“Somewhere on the floor.”
“Fuck.” Nick leaned over the edge of the bed, searching the carpet. He kept the sheet around his waist, covering himself, as he grabbed Colton’s sling. “Did you sleep without it?”
“I wanted to touch you—” Nick looked like he was going to be sick. “It was in the way,” Colton mumbled.
“Are you in pain? Did I hurt your shoulder? Did I—” Nick closed his eyes and hung his head.
Colton shimmied into a sitting position next to Nick, inches away but so far from the man he’d thought had become his lover he might as well be sitting alone on the moon. He worked the sling over his head and set his elbow in the canvas and mesh. His shoulder was still throbbing, and just getting his arm immobile was a relief.
“I thought you were into it,” he finally said. Nick still hadn’t looked his way. “You seemed like you were. You kissed meback.”
“It’s been a long, long time since I’ve had sex.” Nick’s voice was broken. A wounded animal going into hiding. He exhaled, deflating, his spine curving so far forward his quivering chin almost brushed his chest. “God, what did I do? Did I take advantage of you?”
Hurt burrowed deep into Colton’s veins, into every muscle. Ribbons of pain flowed out from where his heart was turning black and blue, bruised with every word Nick uttered. “I thought we were both into it. I was pretty clear about what I wanted. I thought you were clear, too.”
Hadn’t Nick kissed him back? Hadn’t he said, “Let’s get out of here”? Hadn’t he stripped Colton, put his hands on Colton? Hadn’t hewantedColton?
It’s been a long, long time since I’ve had sex.
Or had Nick just wanted the orgasm, and now that the reality that Colton had been the one to give it to him was staring him in the face, he wanted to run?
Guess Nick hadn’t been thinking about him like he’d been thinking about Nick. Guess that hadn’t been desire in his eyes at the winery. Only dust. And Colton’s runaway imagination.
Nick hid his face in his hands. “God, what have I done?”
Colton stared at his lap, at his limp and spent cock. Nick had touched him, made him come, and he’d fallen asleep listening to Nick’s heartbeat. He’d thought,This is the beginning, but no. It was the end.There’s always an end.
“We have to go.” Nick was suddenly on the move, sliding out of bed and wrapping the sheet around his waist, shy now in front of Colton as if Colton hadn’t blown him and swallowed his come hours before. He fished his boxers off the carpet and slid them on under the bedsheet. Grabbed his undershirt and tugged it over his head, and then finally let the sheet fall. He brushed at his thigh, at a patch of dried come that clung to his skin. “Um, do you want to shower first, or can I—”
“Go ahead.” Nick seemed frantic to get Colton off of him. He almost ran to the shower, and he shut the bathroom door firmly behind him. Colton listened, imagining Nick debating whether to turn the lock.
He pulled on his own boxers and picked up the room as Nick showered. Packed his bag, brushed his teeth. Put Nick’s things on the end of his bed. Every time he moved, he smelled Nick and sex, the scent of last night. Eventually he stopped and stared at the bed, at their rumpled blankets, the tossed pillows. The indentations of two men who had slept together.
Nick came out of the shower in a towel. Colton couldn’t help himself. His eyes wandered over Nick’s chest, his taut nipples, his dark chest hair—the feel of it under his fingers and against his lips—and down to Nick’s waist, to the trail that disappeared beneath the knot of his towel, leading to where Colton now knew what Nick tasted like, what he felt like when he was hot and hard and panting, what he sounded like when he was whispering Colton’s name.
Damn it, he had to stop. He looked away as Nick flushed, burgundy going up and down his chest and stomach and neck, all the way to his ears. He skirted Colton like Colton was dangerous, almost pressed to the wall as he went to his duffel. Again, he slid his boxers on beneath his towel, hiding himself.
Colton slunk into the bathroom and shut the door, leaving Nick to change without Colton’s gaze on his body.
He showered as quickly as he could, but his shoulder was killing him, and that made him move slowly. No pain, no gain, though. If he’d woken up and spent an hour lounging in bed tradingGood morning, beautifulkisses with Nick, he wouldn’t have thought twice about his shoulder.
Maybe Nick letting him take off his sling last night should have been a clue. Maybe that should have been a sign that Nick wasn’t really there with him. He hadn’t been thinking that deeply, though. Not after Nickkissed him backat the bar.
Damn it, he kissed himback.
